


The Finest Words You Ever Said To Me

by taegyungie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, based loosely off the song dead sea by the lumineers, manic pixie dream girl vibes coming from baekhyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9187232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taegyungie/pseuds/taegyungie
Summary: Honey, can't you seeI was born to bebe your Dead Sea





	

**Author's Note:**

> recently went through a phase of listening to the lumineers' album again and while listening to my fave song on the album (dead sea) I thought HEY I CAN MAKE THIS BAEKXING and so i did that
> 
> feel free to leave comments and stuff !!!

He came and went like a whirlwind. A puff of cigarette smoke and loud laughter. Whispered words at 2 am and bad decisions. A runner and a chaser. He could never sit in one place. 

 

Byun Baekhyun was such a brief affair in Yixing’s life. Byun Baekhyun wasn't around for very long, yet his fingerprints remained for what seemed like a century all over Yixing’s little world. Byun Baekhyun wasn't a boy. He wasn't a physical form of messy hair and pink cheeks and soft lips. He was an adventure and a lesson. Yixing learned everything he knows about the world - and himself - through the cryptic little things that the anomaly with pink hair and pretty fingers would mutter in the middle of the night. 

 

He crashed into Yixing’s life early in the chapter, weeks after Yixing moved from China to Korea. He had no friends. No family. He could barely order coffee without stumbling over the syllables, tongue tripping and tumbling around the language he’s known since he was a child. 

 

Baekhyun was a pretty voice that Yixing liked to study until he could imitate the way his lips rolled around every word. Pretty pink pillows that pushed out pretty pink words. Yixing found Baekhyun fascinating. Baekhyun found Yixing a substantial place to run to. 

 

He was good at running away, or so he told Yixing. Suitcases suited him better than a home. When Yixing asked him why he loved to run so much, Baekhyun’s response was cryptic as always. 

 

“My daddy died. Decided I didn't wanna die without living, like he did.”

 

Domestic life never suited him, anyway. He never unpacked his bag, living out of the sack of cotton for the months he stayed in Yixing’s bed. Yixing never questioned him. Yixing realized early on that there was no telling Baekhyun what to do. And he didn't mind. He was more than content to sit by and watch Baekhyun stomp his way through life, crumbling walls and building towers. 

 

Yixing wasn't fond of cigarettes, but he adored Baekhyun’s smoke and vanilla taste. Yixing wasn't fond of songs with sad lyrics, but he adored Baekhyun’s quiet melodies when the younger missed the stars. Yixing wasn't fond of committing crimes, but he adored the way Baekhyun emitted light and energy when breaking into abandoned buildings, climbing onto rooftops, slipping that item into his pocket without the store clerk noticing. 

 

Baekhyun came and went as he pleased. And even months after he disappeared for good, Yixing left his door unlocked. Just in case. 

 

Baekhyun, despite his destructive habits, built Yixing into something great. Baekhyun, who laid next to Yixing on the - off-limits - roof of his apartment building when the city had a blackout. Baekhyun, who looked briefly at the stars before turning to Yixing. 

 

“You’re like the Dead Sea.”

 

“The what?”

 

“You've heard the stories. I’ll never sink.”

 

“Because I’m like the Dead Sea?”

 

“You’re buoyant like that.” 

 

Baekhyun had paused, blinking to himself before turning back to where the stars hung proudly. A billion little diamonds in the sky. Baekhyun reached a hand up, like he could grab a star from all the way down here on earth. 

 

“Stable.”

 

Yixing had realized that Baekhyun was not reaching for stars from all the way down here on earth. Baekhyun was somewhere very, very far away. 

 

And when Yixing woke up the next day, Baekhyun was gone. And even though Yixing left his door unlocked, he didn't come back. 

 

\-----

 

“Yixing,” says Jongin. 

 

“Yes?” Says Yixing.

 

“You know that pink haired boy you used to hang around with?”

 

Yixing was stretching. Now, however, he’s frozen in place. It’s been nearly a year since Baekhyun forgot to return. It’s been nearly a year of Yixing refusing to shed his life of Baekhyun’s impact. He’s only just recently started locking his door at night. He’s only just recently given up on the fantasy of round puppydog eyes tapping at his window at one in the morning.

 

“What about him?” Yixing says. 

 

Jongin continues his warm-ups, looking as though he’s debating how to word this. “Kyungsoo tells me he’s been hanging around the shop again.”

 

Baekhyun had fallen in love with a used book store when he was staying in Yixing’s bed. They spent many afternoons there, protected by the towering shelves of books upon books. Baekhyun never read the stories. He would, instead, come up with stories about the lives these books lived. He was more interested in the tears in the pages, the highlighted phrases, the wearing of the spines, than the actual tales inside. Yixing found Baekhyun so full of wonder. 

 

It wasn’t until after Baekhyun had disappeared for good that Yixing discovered that the store was owned by a friend of his co-workers. When Yixing had moved from China to join this dance company, the first friend he made was Baekhyun. Baekhyun gave him the push he needed to befriend the other dancers in his company. He’s eternally grateful for everything Baekhyun made him believe in. Including himself.

 

“Interesting.”

 

“What happened between you two?” Sehun decides to join the conversation.

 

“We were never dating,” Yixing shrugs. “Baekhyun always came and went as he pleased.”

 

His friends don’t question him further. They don't need to. Just the mention of the puff of pink hair and whimsy is enough to have Yixing’s mind spinning. He’s wished so dearly that he could push Baekhyun from his memory. But the boy sits proudly at the forefront of his mind, cozying himself into everything around him. He is everywhere and inescapable. 

 

Yixing doesn't gamble. He finds no pleasure in risking so much for a mere chance at gaining. He isn't adventurous like that. Yet, he would have bet on he and Baekhyun. Despite how entirely different the two of them lived, he was certain they could have somehow made it. 

 

They hadn't fallen in love but it was something awfully close. Yixing never said it aloud but he showed it with tender fingertips and open doors. Baekhyun never said the words outright, but the things he said felt like his own way of confessing. When he told Yixing his touch felt like booster cables. When he told Yixing his arms feel dangerously close to a home. And, of course, when he told Yixing that he was like the Dead Sea. Buoyant, stable, incapable of letting Baekhyun sink. 

 

He’ll never understand why Baekhyun decided to run that night. Right when they were so close to being in love. 

 

Thoughts of the pink haired boy in oversized sweaters linger around in Yixing's mind all day. All he can see, hear, feel is words and touches that should have been long forgotten. He wonders if Baekhyun does this to everyone he uses as a temporary home. He wonders if he still resides in every person, long after he’s gone. 

 

\-----

 

It’s November and it’s cold. Yixing is bundled up under layers of guaranteed warmth. His scarf covers half his face. His pockets stuffed full with his mittened hands. A light snow creeps down from the sky. Not enough to stay, but enough to warn of what is to come. 

 

The bookstore is warm. Kyungsoo likes it cozy. Yixing decided he needed to talk to Kyungsoo, get some information out of him. He needs to find a way to drain Baekhyun from his system. He feels like answers just might accomplish that. 

 

He doesn't, however, expect to see the boy himself. He looks moreso like a man after a year since they met. His face has somewhat hardened. He’s not dressed warm enough for the weather. 

 

“Your hair is red,” Yixing says. 

 

The boy still stares at him. His expression is unreadable. He doesn't look surprised. He doesn't look like he really feels anything. 

 

“My hair has been a lot of colours since you last saw me.”

 

The bookstore is empty. Kyungsoo must be in the back room. He feels a painful wave of nostalgia at the towering walls of books and books and books. And the pretty eyes before him. 

 

“What brings you back here?”

 

Baekhyun looks away. He lets his eyes wander the rows of worn bindings. “I think… after all the places I’ve been to… I couldn't really forget this place.”

 

Yixing wonders if Baekhyun realizes that after all the faces he’s used to distract himself, Yixing is unable to forget soft skin and boxy grins. 

 

“Did you want to go get coffee?” Yixing asks. 

 

“If you don't mind paying,” Baekhyun says with a sad smile. 

 

“I never minded before.”

 

Yixing has never minded. Yixing liked to give Baekhyun what he needs, as if fooling himself into believing that if he did this, perhaps he’ll stay. But Baekhyun was right when he said he was good at running away. He was considerably practiced at it. Yixing wasn't quite strong enough to grip onto him tighter. 

 

Baekhyun always orders coffee so sweet it can't be considered coffee. Pretty fingers wrapped around the paper cup. His hair is still messy and overgrown. Some things never change. 

 

He watches the other boy’s face for a while. He’s as pretty as he remembers. Yixing doesn't think his memories of the boy have faded one bit. He loves being temporary, but he's such a permanent fixture.

 

“Where did you go?” Yixing asks. 

 

“Everywhere.” Baekhyun sips his coffee. “I’ve been a lot of places. I’ve never stayed with anyone as long as I stayed with you.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

There’s a long moment in which Baekhyun appears to be thinking. His eyes are christmas lights and sunrises. There’s so much stirring behind them constantly, Yixing can never forget them. They’re so lucid, so distant, containing galaxies behind his eyelids. He must see stars when he blinks. 

 

“Every person I’ve ever used for a bed has only ever seen me as a body. But you, Yixing…” Baekhyun is staring longingly out the window, rather than at the older man. Yixing sips his coffee. It’s bitter, how he likes it. The juxtaposition between everything that he and Baekhyun are is something of a phenomenon to him. He’ll never comprehend how two people can be so different, yet fit together so well.

 

“Yixing, not only did you never see me as just a body. I don’t think you ever saw me as a person.”

 

That’s because Byun Baekhyun isn’t a person. He’s a dream you can’t wake up from. He’s an undiscovered emotion that sits heavy on your chest. He’s the song that’s been stuck in your head for days. He’s a concept. An idea.

 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

 

Yixing didn’t realize he was staring. “Like what?”

 

“Like I’m some… nebula or fantasy or…” he sighs, “whatever it is you believe me to be.”

 

Yixing ponders a moment. “A myth.”

 

“You see me as a myth?” Baekhyun’s smile is considerably amused. Bright white teeth and sharp canines. “I’m right in front of you.”

 

Yixing reaches a hand out, his palm meeting Baekhyun’s arm. He feels around, playful smirk on his lips. Baekhyun watches, amused. “Why, yes you are!”

 

Baekhyun’s giggle is such a beautiful sound. Yixing holds it so dear to his heart. He finds the messy-haired boy to appear so sad, longing, all the time. It's nice when he looks so joyful that his eyes disappear into little crescent moons, his cheeks turning into little peaches.

 

“No matter how hard I try,” the younger says after a few minutes of quiet, “I’ve never been able to forget that night on your rooftop. I don’t know if it was the stars, or you, or what. I can never stop thinking about it.”

 

Yixing’s brow furrows as he studies the other. All soft lines and surfaces, delicate and fragile yet determined to be the strongest. “I think about it always.”

 

Baekhyun turns to Yixing. He bites his lower lip, a habit Yixing sees he hasn’t cut. He wonders briefly if he cut his smoking habit, but he can faintly smell it on his sweater.

 

“Do you know why you always think about it?” Baekhyun asks. “Because it bothers me that I don’t know why.”

 

“It could be because it’s the night you ran away,” Yixing says. He takes a sip of his coffee while he thinks. “But, really, it’s because of what you said to me.”

 

Baekhyun is very quiet.

 

“Do you remember what you said to me?”

 

“I remember everything, Yixing.”

 

“You said a lot of interesting things in our short time together.” Another sip. He’s nearly done. Then he won’t have anything to stall while he thinks. “But those were the finest words you ever said to me.”

 

“About the Dead Sea?” Yixing nods. Baekhyun hums. 

 

Another long pause. Baekhyun usually has so much to say. Yixing usually is so willing to listen. Yet, neither of them can find the right words. Perhaps there’s too much for them to share. Neither of them know where to begin. 

 

“Why did you run that night?” Yixing asks. “Of all nights to leave. It had to be that one.”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t respond. His jaw tightens as he stares at a chip in the table.

 

“I was ready to fall in love with you, Baek.”

 

Baekhyun sighs loudly, as if those were the words he feared hearing all night. He blinks, staring at the ceiling as if having a silent conversation with it. 

 

“I ran because I realized I was getting too comfortable.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with having a home.”

 

“I don't want one.”

 

Yixing huffs, wrapping his fist tighter around his cup of coffee. There’s no sense in arguing with Baekhyun. He’s headstrong and stubborn and argumentative. He’ll argue and argue until he wins. Yixing learned that very early on.

 

“Won’t you stay?” Yixing says. He sees Baekhyun’s internal panic over the forbidden word. He quickly corrects himself. “Won’t you stay the night?”

 

Baekhyun will never agree to be a permanence. He will always agree to be a temporary fix.

 

\-----

 

Yixing breathes in dull grays and sallow navies. He emits a cloud of monochromatic shades, uninspired and lifeless. When he dances the navies become a slightly brighter blue. For the most part, he’s dim and average and expendable. 

 

Baekhyun breathes in a variety of colours. A warm and lively orange when he excitedly recites stories. A gentle green when he’s muttering his good mornings. A vivid pink when he says something romantic or cryptic. Or like this, a deep merlot red, panting against Yixing’s lips. 

 

It's ridiculous, how quickly they fell back into old habits. It probably isn't healthy. But the moment they entered Yixing’s apartment, Baekhyun giggled an amused, “everything is exactly the same,” before their mouths fused together in a heated kiss. A kiss making up for lost time. 

 

The puff of blood red air is remarkably light, legs wrapped securely around Yixing’s waist, back pressed to the wall, tiny moans releasing in burgundy clouds. The last time Yixing had him like this, he was soft and plump and healthy. Now he’s hollow, harsh edges, jutting hip and collar bones. 

 

“How well have you been eating?” Yixing asks, lips trailing the cut of the younger’s jaw. 

 

“I’ve actually gained weight, recently,” Baekhyun mutters back. 

 

“Remind me to make you a big breakfast in the morning.”

 

Yixing doesn't even bother to think about it. He knows it's unlikely the soft lips and round hips will be here by morning. He’ll just take what he's given. And he’s been given tonight. 

 

Floppy red hair and flushed limbs spread out on his sheets is possibly the most beautiful thing Yixing has ever seen. Hooded eyes that say more than mysterious words and swollen lips agape with pleasure. Delicate fingers gripping cotton, toes curling and chest heaving. Yixing curls his fingers. Dainty torso lifting off the bed, a moan so loud Yixing loses him in the blood red fog.

 

Baekhyun, ever a tactile learner, reaches greedily for Yixing’s skin. Pretty fingertips tracing heat all over Yixing’s torso, digging into his ribs and dipping into the hollows of his collarbone. The pads of his thumbs brushing his jawline, fingers curling in his hair too tight. Yixing feels like every fingerprint, every line the boy traces will leave a mark. Sear a burn into the flesh to scar permanently. 

 

Yixing wraps strong arms around fragile skin and bones, flipping them over until Yixing is sitting comfortably upright, an entire galaxy in his arms, his lap. 

 

Yixing feels the words vibrate from Baekhyun’s chest against his. “You want to fuck like this?”

 

Yixing hums, lips finding their way to the smaller’s chest. His arms snake tighter around him, like he’ll disappear if he doesn't keep him grounded. “Just want to hold you while I can.”

 

Baekhyun’s eyes drop, looking unmistakably guilty. Instead of answering, however, he reaches behind himself to line the both of them up. Yixing’s teeth sink into Baekhyun's neck as the redhead sinks down. Yixing’s eyelashes against Baekhyun’s collarbone. Baekhyun’s fingers in Yixing’s hair. Heavy breathing and unspoken words. Then the boy starts rocking his hips. 

 

Yixing hasn't forgotten the way Baekhyun feels in any context. Like he said, the boy is a permanence, and his fluid hips and greedy mouth are a familiarity. His head tips back, gnawing his lower lip raw. They had complaints from the neighbors back when this was a regular occurrence, and Baekhyun knows to keep himself quiet. 

 

Fingers press against Yixing’s lips. Baekhyun’s brows are pinched with pleasure but he studies Yixing’s face like he’s burning it to memory. Yixing feels like his body is boiling, every inch of him flooded with pleasure. His blue groans mix with Baekhyun’s red whimpers, a regal purple spinning around their heads. 

 

“No one,” Baekhyun pants, “no one has compared to you, Yixing.”

 

Yixing moans, sucking Baekhyun’s fingers between his teeth. 

 

“I’m sorry you can't keep me.”

 

“Baek.” Now is not the time. 

 

“No man, no woman,” he pauses to let out a particularly loud moan, “ha-have treated me like you do.”

 

“Shhh.” 

 

Yixing pulls the boy against him even tighter. His arms ache at how he squeezes his ribcage against his own. Fingers bruise soft flesh. Hips rock more fervently. He doesn't want Baekhyun even  _ thinking  _ about the other men and women he's found, opened up, and terrorized. Baekhyun is a poison. Baekhyun is a battle scar. Horrors of thick eyelashes and shattered moans haunt you until the day you die. 

 

Baekhyun’s heartbeat is violent against Yixing’s chest, Yixing’s palms. He didn't even think the boy had a heartbeat. He sometimes forgets that he’s even real. The younger boy is murmuring something desperately but Yixing isn't listening. He’s caught up in himself. Baekhyun is a real boy with a beating heart. It feels a bit surreal. 

 

Loud, crimson moans fill the air around Yixing’s head as the younger boy comes undone. His body tenses above Yixing and it pulls him over the edge alongside him. They both remain wrapped up, limbs like vines around each other’s bodies, both petrified of letting go. Yixing doesn't know why Baekhyun is so insistent on letting go when he clearly despises the thought. 

 

They kiss, a slow and tender kiss. Baekhyun’s lips should be added to the list of wonders of the world. It tastes remarkably like a goodbye kiss, however.  

 

Luckily, Baekhyun makes no move to leave. He finds a sweatshirt in Yixing’s wardrobe to shrug on, muttering about how the cold bites this time of year. He’s a welcome presence, between Yixing’s sheets. He looks immensely youthful bundled up beneath the covers, the sleeves of Yixing’s sweater too long on his arms. 

 

Yixing fears falling asleep. He knows that when he wakes up in the morning, the hurricane with red hair and a pitchy laugh will be gone again, another disaster left in his wake. He fights it as best he can, but his eyelids become far too heavy. 

 

Until he wakes up in the middle of the night, the sky beyond the window still dark. A silver light casts harsh shadows across the apartment, across the beautiful face of his sweetest dreams and worst nightmares sitting up next to him in bed. He’s still here. He looks like he’s crying. 

 

“Baek.”

 

“Do you think my dad lived?”

 

Yixing can't think of an answer. 

 

“I mean…” Baekhyun sniffs, composing himself. “When he got sick, I started really thinking about his life. He had my mom and me and my brother. But he had a shitty job that he hated. He…”

 

Baekhyun presses his fingers to his mouth, sad eyes fixed on the moon shining bright outside. “He didn't have anything else. He used to write, you know. He should have been a writer. But he couldn't. Because he had to take care of his home.”

 

“I think he lived.”

 

Baekhyun whips his gaze down to where Yixing watches him. His dark irises are flooded with fogs of all different colours. He looks irreparably sad, lost. He really is a stray puppy. Homeless, familyless, purposeless. 

 

“Why?”

 

“He had more than what you have. Sure, you've been places and experienced plenty. But, Baek,” Yixing says. He reaches a hand out to find Baekhyun’s. Delicate fingers slot perfectly between Yixing’s. “He had you and your mom and your brother. He had people to live for. His job may have been boring but he did it because he loved you. I think that's living.”

 

Baekhyun is silent for a long moment. “Is that enough?”

 

“Is what you have enough?”

 

There is no answer. Yixing doesn't need one. That is something for Baekhyun to decide for himself. Yixing kisses knuckles, cold from the November night chill. He says goodnight. He doubts Baekhyun is going to sleep. 

 

And when he wakes up, his bed is empty. And when he goes to bed again that night, he locks his door. 

 

\-----

 

Salty skin and sweaty brows. Yixing loves the state he's in after rehearsal. He feels refreshed, reinvigorated, cleansed of every negative feeling. Like sadness escapes through his pores with every pirouette. He never showers at the studio, he just waits until he's in the comfort of his home. He’s always the first to leave. 

 

It’s brutally cold. The first week of December. Christmas lights encase the city in a vivid glow. Jingle bells ring from the speakers outside every shop. Yixing’s scarf is tight around his face, the sweat on his skin solidifying and sending a chill through him. 

 

Outside the studio, however, is a familiar figure. He’s standing by the wall, curvy thighs and wide hips and a mop of unruly hair. It isn't red, though. It’s somewhere between brown and silver. His jacket isn't warm enough for this cold. There’s a cigarette hanging precariously from between plump lips. Eyes that shine brighter than the twinkling lights gaze sadly at the concrete. 

 

Yixing isn't sure he wants to approach. He’s growing exhausted of saying good bye. Unfortunately, he needs to walk that way to his car. He sighs. 

 

“Yixing,” the voice is soft, fragile, “don’t walk away.”

 

Yixing halts. “What is it, Baekhyun?”

 

“I’m…” There’s a sniffle, a choked sob. Yixing spins on his heels, incapable of ignoring Baekhyun ever, let alone when he's in such a state. The boy takes a long drag of his cigarette, the tip burning vibrant orange. He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “I’m tired of running.”

 

His words are distorted around the cigarette still pressed between his lips, but they send a jolt through Yixing nonetheless. He has so much to ask him, so much he wants to know. He wants to know everywhere,  _ everyone  _ he’s been to this last year that's left him so hollow, so drained. He looks so thin, so ghastly under the streetlight, harsh shadows cast over his face. His eyes are wet and the cold air is turning his damp eyelashes to ice. The end of the cigarette burns orange again as Baekhyun inhales deeply. 

 

“Are you okay?” Is all that leaves Yixing’s lips. Of all the things swimming through his mind, he’s glad it was those word that escaped. He genuinely wants to know. 

 

A bitterly cold breeze pushes past and Baekhyun shivers violently. His floppy, ashen hair tosses about in the wind and he looks so fragile, so breakable, shuddering like that. Without thinking, Yixing reaches a hand out to him, placing it gently on his arm and guiding him toward his car. 

 

“Come, Baek. It’s too cold for you to be out here.”

 

Baekhyun doesn't say anything, but the downcast of his eyes, swimming with thought and emotion, says enough. 

 

He smells like cigarettes, sitting small in Yixing’s passenger seat. They don't say anything. Yixing wants to say so much, but he can't find where to start. Why, of all places, did Baekhyun come back to him? Why is he so tired of running all of a sudden? Had someone done something to him? Has something happened? Should Yixing be even more worried than he is, now?

 

All he knows is Baekhyun is still shivering, the chill in his bones far from thawed. He’s so small, so delicate, so beautiful, Yixing wants to hold him in his arms and never drop him. He’d shatter, if your grip falters. He’s a beautiful ice sculpture, frozen, fragile, slowly melting away. It hurts Yixing to see him like this, curled up in himself and crying silent tears. Yixing wishes he could just fix him. It’s impossible to turn a hurricane into a gentle breeze, however. 

 

Mostly, Yixing wishes he could just ignore Baekhyun. He wishes he could just push Baekhyun from his mind, his heart, and forget he ever existed. He’s tired of seeing Baekhyun. Baekhyun comes in, a disastrous storm, tears Yixing apart and takes everything he has, then disappears. He leaves behind a mess, disoriented and off-kilter. Yixing is tired of welcoming Baekhyun with open arms and open doors, only to find him missing again. 

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Baekhyun mutters. 

 

Yixing didn't realize he was staring. He returns his gaze to the road ahead, not saying anything. 

 

\-----

 

Once again, Baekhyun has found himself in Yixing’s apartment. He looks good, sitting at the end of the bed, staring at the water stain on the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Yixing has always found Baekhyun in theory to be a permanence, a lingering sensation all around him. Physically, though, he isn't around as much as he should be. He suits it, his little spot in Yixing’s life. He should really keep it. 

 

Yixing is fixing him a cup of tea, watching with observant eyes. The younger is usually a cloud of whimsy, dreamlike and surreal, but today… he looks so real it’s undismissable. He’s broken. He’s a physical form before Yixing, not some fantasy or myth. It’s quite the revelation, Yixing concludes. Byun Baekhyun is very real, very breakable, and also very fixable. 

 

He approaches the shivering boy, placing a steaming mug in his hands and tugging the blanket tighter over his shoulders. Baekhyun accepts the care silently, refusing to look up from the floor. Yixing settles against the chest placed against the wall, right across where Baek is sitting. He’s still so tiny, so sallow, cocooned under the blanket, steam fragmenting his pretty face. 

 

“Why now?”

 

Baekhyun inhales a deep, contemplative breath. He brings the mug closer to his face, allowing the steam to warm his skin as he thinks. “Because of you.”

 

“Why me?”

 

So many  _ why this _ and  _ why that…  _ Yixing has so much he wants to know. 

 

“You made me realize,” Baekhyun says, voice so low and tentative, “how much I miss having a home.”

 

Yixing allows the words to simmer in his mind a moment. “It was only weeks ago you told me you didn't want one.”

 

Baekhyun says nothing. His face looks so sunken, so tired. His mouth naturally downturns, but today, it’s etched with a frown. It tugs at the strings that make Yixing who he is. A hollow vessel before him, thinking so deeply it looks like he’s disappearing. 

 

“I haven't slept in a few days,” Baekhyun says. Yixing can barely hear him, he speaks so low. “Can I just… sleep? For a bit?”

 

Yixing can't find it in himself to do anything but agree. Soon, the tiny jumble of skin and bones is curled up beneath Yixing’s sheets, breath heavy with sleep. He whimpers in his sleep, pathetic little noises. Yixing can't sleep. He sits there in his bed, knees hugged tightly to his chest, watching the rise and fall of the sleeping boy’s shoulders. 

 

He wonders why Baekhyun can sleep so easily tonight, if he was unable to before. Clearly, something has been haunting him, possessing him, that’s kept him from falling asleep at night. It wasn't that he didn't have a bed. Baekhyun  _ always  _ finds a bed. But Yixing thinks about the way waking up in a hotel room, or at a friend’s feels. That no matter how comfortable it may be, it’s impossible to sleep as well as you do at home. 

 

Perhaps, Yixing concludes, Baekhyun needed to come home to sleep. 

 

Strangely, the thought calms Yixing’s racing, spinning, aggressive mind. He feels much closer to sleep, but still not entirely there. So, he sinks down into his sheets, closer to Baekhyun, warmth encasing him from under the covers. 

 

Baekhyun is really so beautiful. It’s no wonder it’s such a tragedy for him to come and go. He’s so ethereal, so stunning, it’s like owning a priceless work of art to discover it’s been stolen in your sleep. It’s such a loss when he’s no longer around. It’s a rejoice when he returns. Soft, warm skin and long eyelashes and pink lips. Sharp canines and fluffy hair and dexterous fingers. He’s nothing but pretty; pretty eyes, pretty sounds, pretty taste, pretty  _ feeling.  _ There’s no greater source of beauty than the sleeping figure before Yixing, right at this very moment. 

 

He reaches tentative fingers up, pads of fingertips gently pressing into the plump, pink flesh of the younger boy’s lips. They trace the lines in his face, the tickle making his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Yixing can't stop touching. As if he doesn't entirely believe that the boy is actually here, a physical form in Yixing’s bed. Yixing’s life. 

 

A soft hum fills the air between them. It surprises Yixing, who wonders if he’d accidentally let it slip, but Baekhyun is wiggling in closer to Yixing. Although his eyes remain closed, his hand wanders across the space between their bodies, desperate hands clinging to Yixing’s waist. He’s awake, now. It appears as he plummets back to earth from whatever dream he was just living in, he needs to grip onto Yixing until he feels grounded once again. 

 

“I’m sorry I kept running.” His voice is whisper soft. Soaking in sadness. 

 

Yixing can't find words. Instead, he leans forward, pressing tender lips to Baekhyun’s. Hands grip around his waist even tighter in response. Baekhyun feels so warm, hot flesh and soft lips. His gentle hums fuel the flame that’s blossoming in Yixing’s stomach. Yixing is sorry Baekhyun kept running, too, because the way their lips fit so perfectly together is something Yixing can never replace. He loves the way Baekhyun tastes. Smoke and vanilla. And wonder. Baekhyun is something Yixing will never tire of, and perhaps that’s why he’s continued to welcome him in, even when he knew the boy would never be staying.

 

Baekhyun is that sip of alcohol for a recovering alcoholic. Just one, you can handle just one. But then you keep seeking out for more. More.  _ More.  _

 

Their kisses simmer down until they’re just laying still, mouths hardly brushing. Yixing’s hands haven’t left Baekhyun’s face, now cupping his jaw and holding him impossibly close.  _ Don’t let go, don’t let go,  _ Yixing is thinking to himself,  _ or else he’ll disappear again. _

 

“I’ve been treading water for so long,” Baekhyun says quietly. His lips brush against Yixing’s with every syllable. His breath warms Yixing’s face.  _ Don’t let go, don’t let go. _

 

“I think I’m ready to just float.”

 

Yixing blinks at that, realization dawning on him. He knows what Baekhyun is referring to. Yixing. He’s like the Dead Sea. With Yixing, Baekhyun no longer has to tread water, exhaust himself, keep himself afloat. He’ll never sink with Yixing. He’s buoyant like that. Stable.

 

“Stay,” is all Yixing says, voice nothing but a release of breath.

 

“If you’ll let me.”

 

“I would never close my door on you.”

 

Yixing lived the better part of a year without locking his door. Open doors and manual locks, always left wide open. Yixing, waiting, hoping to see those wide eyes again. Yixing, who felt irreparably sad each time Baekhyun left, but inescapably joyous whenever he arrived. 

 

The kiss Baekhyun presses to Yixing’s lips is vibrant, buzzing, full to bursting with everything Baekhyun wants to say. Yixing understands him just fine. Slick lips, warm mouth, sharp teeth tugging at Yixing’s bottom lip as he pulls away. He breathes Yixing’s name, a thousand apologies packed into two syllables. 

 

With an even more fervent press of lips, Yixing accepts them all. A thousand  _ I forgive you’s _ passing from Yixing’s lungs into Baekhyun’s. He’ll forgive Baekhyun a million times over, if that's what it takes to make him stay. Baekhyun the runner. Baekhyun the hurricane. Coming and going and leaving a mess in his wake. Let him stay and tear Yixing’s life apart over and over and over and over. They'll always find a way to put it all back together. 

 

As if testing the validity of everything, Yixing draws his hands away from Baekhyun’s face. He lets go. Baekhyun doesn't vanish, instead, he rolls the both of them over until he’s straddling Yixing’s hips, securing himself in his spot in Yixing’s life. 

 

This is so perfect, Yixing feels. Having this galaxy he calls a boy tangled up in him once again. 

 

And he can stay as long as he’d like. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> -it takes some getting used to, but even though baek tends to disappear sometimes he always finds his way back home  
> -he gets a job at Kyungsoo's bookstore that he loves so much  
> -they live happily ever after
> 
> twitter: bbhsteeth  
> tumblr: taetaeofficial


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